Our Last Breath
by AlyGardiner
Summary: Formerly titled Untouched. What if Peter actually died in the explosion, but his soul stayed on earth? And what if Claire was the only one he had? AU Paire
1. Chapter 1

Heroes Fan fiction

Title: Untouched

Summary: What if Peter died in the explosion? But what if his soul remained on earth and Claire was the only one he had? PAIRE

Pairings: Peter/Claire

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING

Credits to caligurl777 on YouTube for the original story

* * *

Chapter One

Peter Petrelli woke up. He didn't know how long he had been asleep.

The surface of his very awakening intrigued him. It was soft, and smooth like freshly mowed grass on the young man's face. In fact, Peter found out as he stood, it was grass.

He was in a well-furnished graveyard, with polished headstones of honorable men and women and the freshly mowed grass the young man just woke up upon.

It seemed familiar, and strange. It was like he had been there before. But he knew he wasn't dreaming, for the grass felt so real, the warm air around him wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

Peter finally realized where he was. This was where his father was laid to rest, after his supposed heart attack. Peter found his surroundings a bit strange, for it seemed like he was the only one around. No mourner came to grieve; no on-looker came to spite.

It was just him. So he did what he always did: run to Nathan.

* * *

Peter found his older brother in his old apartment. The older man looked different, with an overgrown beard framing his chin and eyes that looked like they were doomed to death. Peter phased through the door and saw Nathan on the couch.

Things around him were tattered, torn. Yet the only things that were pristine untouched were the pictures of Peter on the mantelpiece.

Each memory framed, and it seemed like the only thing that was of value in the apartment. Books and magazines were strewn about; blankets and pillows were removed from their haven to be located on the couch, where his brother laid. On the table, sat a few bottles of what seemed to be vodka.

"Nathan," Peter said, looking back at the framed memories. "How long have I been gone?"

No answer, just silence stirred in the apartment. No sound, except the sound of a beer bottle slapping itself on the table.

Peter turned, expecting to see his older brother looking at him. but what he discovered was more intriguing. Nathan, half-drunk, wasn't looking at Peter's direction. In fact, he wasn't even close. He was looking at his beer bottles on his table.

"Nathan?"

Peter made a move to touch his older brother on the shoulder, just in case he didn't hear him. But when he did so, he felt a rush of cold air on his fingertips. Said icy air replaced Nathan's touch at that moment. That wasn't the only thing.

A flashback seemed to replace Peter's reality for a moment, and soon he was drenched with memories of the Kirby Plaza incident, of the explosion. Suddenly he realized, realized why no one could see him, could hear him, could feel him.

He was dead. He was merely a spirit, a soul left on earth, with no one. Nathan got up, and walked out the door. Out of curiosity, the spirit of his brother followed him.

* * *

The bar was loud, filled with 90s music. The kind when the song was stuck with you, even after a decade. Peter's ears rang with Vanilla Ice's Ice Ice Baby. God, he thought as he saw Nathan sit down, he hated that song, yet he kept mouthing 'ice ice baby' as Nathan sipped his drinks.

Peter knew he couldn't stop the monotonous drinking, but Good Lord did he try. Tried screaming at the man, begging to stop, but Nathan never made a move. Go figure.

Nathan's phone rang. He took his time reading the caller ID and answered.

"Why are you calling me?" he asked. He fingered his fourth glass.

"Claire," Nathan said.

Claire? Peter's mind boggled at the name. Surely, there was a possibility Claire could see him. For he was her hero and she was his cheerleader. Now, he only needed to find out where she was.

"Claire, you're in Costa Verde, you can't come here," the rest of Nathan's sentence was lost; Peter only concentrated on the location of the cheerleader. Nathan ended the call and sipped his drink.

Peter went to go to Claire, but turned back to face Nathan. The younger Petrelli said, "I love you, Nathan," and left.

* * *

A/N: That's my first chapter! Hope you guys like it! Wanna make me happy? Review, please!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Costa Verde. A beautiful, sunny place, where beaches were turned into personal havens for teenagers, where it seemed everything was right. The raven-haired spirit tucked his hands in his pockets as he strolled around.

Sunny places were never a big hit for Peter; he was always the kid who stayed inside most of the time. Although a spirit, the young Petrelli was clothed with a black t-shirt and jeans. Shoes sometimes disappeared through thin air, but at that moment he was dressed in full regalia.

In the sunny place, he didn't shed his shirt, for he felt no heat, no beating sun upon his dark hair, just the normal warm air that engulfed him every second. Peter walked past an old woman with stringy white hair with, Peter assumed her ten-year-old grandson.

With every stranger, Peter had a naïve thought that maybe they could see him, like some Just Like Heaven, a movie he grudgingly went through with Simone, crap. But no, that didn't happen.

He walked towards Claire Bennet's home. It was a normal-looking home, in a nice neighborhood. It had white-washed walls and a parked car in front of it. A Nissan Rogue. He saw a blonde figure emerging from it. His heart jumped at the sight. It was Claire. He saw her open the door of her home, and eagerly followed her.

As soon as he saw the door close, he phased through it and his carefully behind the Bennet's couch. He wasn't being silly; he just thought if Claire could see him, it should at least be a surprise.

"Claire-bear, you're home," Peter heard a man talk from the kitchen. Noah Bennet. Peter tried to picture the man, with his infamous pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

"Hi, Dad," Peter could distantly hear Claire's bag plopping on a chair.

"How was school?" Noah asked his daughter.

"It was fine," Claire said.

A little of her sentence was said with ignorance, a tone Peter had never heard on Claire.

"Claire, I know it's been a hard few months, since Peter died..." Noah's voice died out. "I know you cared about him, Claire. But I need you to know, I'll always be here."

Peter could almost see Claire crack a smile as she said, "Thanks, Dad."

"I'm going out, I have work to do," Noah said. "I love you, Claire."

Peter could see Noah leave the house from the corner of his eye. He decided it was time to see Claire, to tell her he didn't die, he was still there.

In the kitchen, he saw the petite blonde cry with her hands covering her hands. She was crying for him. "Claire," Peter said, a silent breath. He longed to tell her to not cry, to hold her and say everything was alright. But all those dreams came crashing down as he saw that Claire didn't respond. Claire was just like the others; she couldn't see him, hear him, feel him.

Oh great.

* * *

Peter decided to have a stroll around the house. It was big, with more than enough room for the Bennets. Pictures of a fluffy dog hung on the wall, among others. He spotted a room that had a big sign over it, reading, 'Claire.'

Peter, ever the curious man, opened the door and saw what seemed to be Claire's refuge. Memories, much like Nathan's, sat on her table. Peter gravitated towards them. A few pictures of the Bennet family, and that darn dog again, a picture of a gawky-looking teenage boy who Peter took to be Zach, who he heard Claire mention a couple of times.

But what attracted him the most was the picture of Claire and Peter. It sat on top of the cupboard, above a hung outfit. A familiar red-and-white uniform that still gave Peter a smile.

Claire was smiling, glowing actually, her arms around the older man. Peter still had his bangs then, that, conveniently, didn't follow him to afterlife. The picture gave Peter an indescribable emotion, like butterflies multiplied by ten.

He couldn't help smiling at Claire, at what they had. Their hero/damsel relationship. Memories seemed to overflow him. Homecoming night, the night in the jail cell, where all he could think of was Claire's smile, the time during the explosion, when Claire desperately.

He finally realized the feeling. Nathan had described it when he married Heidi, his college friends had explained it to him. It was love.

* * *

Peter spent a few more moments in Claire's room but stopped his thoughts of his niece when he heard the door of the Bennet home opening. Perhaps it was Noah coming back. Peter walked downstairs, but didn't see Noah.

He saw Claire, wrapped in the arms of a dark-haired teen. Peter's insides burned at the sight, for he thought he was the only one that should hold her like that.

"Thanks for coming, West," Claire said.

"No problem. It sounded like you really needed a friend," the boy, West, said.

West looked like the good guy, the one that would always go to save the day. He was okay-looking, too tall for his age, though.

Claire and West sat on the couch, as Peter sat just beside Claire. "It's just been a few hard months without him, you know," she said. Tears began rolling down the petite blonde's face.

Peter had the same sensation he had when she previously cried, that he wanted to hold her. He longed for that moment that would never come.

The moment where Peter would find Claire in his arms, kiss the top of her head and indulge himself in the fresh strawberry scent Claire emitted. But that longing got cut as he saw West do the one thing he wanted to do; embrace Claire.

If Peter wasn't already a spirit, he wanted to kill himself at the moment. Or even better, kill West.

* * *

A/N: I'm on a roll here! And dozens of thanks to my best friend, Ira, who helped. You know what to do: Review!


	3. Chapter 3

_I own NOTHING. _

Chapter Three

Days he stayed, when he could've left. Maybe he still had the naïve thought that maybe Claire could someday see him. He saw her dancing to Panic at the Disco in the afternoons, and cracked a smile.

It was great, seeing Claire as he never saw her before, with all the smiles and laughs they never really experienced before. Yet the only thing that was wrong with them were the people present.

West Rosen frequently gave Peter the longing to punch him in the gut. Whenever he saw him with Claire, Peter's fists clenched, but never made a move because he knew nothing would make a difference.

It was this particular day that Peter lost his mind. Claire was getting off from school, and he saw her walking down to her car, her hands gripped on her bag. She waved goodbye to her friends, and there he was. West Rosen positioned himself, his back colliding with Claire's Nissan Versa, and tried to look 'cool'.

Peter's expression could've been labeled spite, but instead, it was pure hate for the teenager.

"Hey," he heard Claire say.

"Hey yourself," West smiled.

Claire stood beside West, and smiled.

The next event, well, let's just say it wasn't a good thing for Peter. West kissed Claire, and Peter could see that the petite blonde was enjoying. She kissed him back, full of lust.

Even though he knew Claire couldn't see or hear him, he stood right in front of the kissing couple and practically yelled at the blonde. Peter stood at the same spot, as the couple drove away from the school.

* * *

Peter's heart shrunk a few sizes the following days as he kept seeing West and Claire kissing. His face, that used to be full of spite for West, became full of depression for himself.

The longing for Claire soon became a trait. He kept looking at her as she slept, knowing he would never be the one beside her. He kept watching her kiss West, knowing he would never be in that position. He kept having the too-illicit thoughts of Claire that could have easily made him say, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

Melancholy flowed through Peter like a drug; Claire kept popping up in his mind every time he wasn't with her.

He hated the feeling, hated that no matter what he did, Claire would never be his; Claire would never be more than just his cheerleader, his niece, for God's sake. It wasn't the age difference that scared him; it was the mere fact of her being related him, that his brother's DNA was embedded in hers.

Yet it was this obstacle made Peter love her even more; she was his family.

* * *

It was a Wednesday. It started normal enough, Claire packed her things, said goodbye to her mother (Noah was out on a business trip) and went off to school. He saw her talk to friends, and to West.

The only bad thing that happened happened during the night. Peter followed Claire go to the school at the middle of the night. At the scene were the few cheerleaders, dressed in their blue uniforms, and who Peter recognized to be the captain, a blonde girl named Debbie he heard Claire bitch about after she was rejected for the cheerleading team. In Debbie's hand was a beer bottle wrapped in a plastic bag.

Peter heard Claire and Debbie talk, and saw that the cheerleaders had words written on the foreheads in marker pens. He almost felt sorry for them. He heard Debbie yell at Claire, maybe Claire asked for another chance in tryouts.

Next thing he knew, Claire was up in the air, being held up by a masked stranger, who Peter knew was West.

"Claire?" Debbie said, about the same moment as Peter said it too. Why was Claire doing this? She wasn't like this. This was wrong, this wasn't Claire. Peter saw West drop Claire on the stairs, and blood flowed everywhere. From her nose, her mouth. She was dead.

West didn't stop there, he chased after Debbie and she screamed. Peter couldn't bear to see more. He quickly evaporated from the scene and ended up in Claire's bedroom.

* * *

West stopped by the next day, while Claire was doing some homework in the kitchen. Claire saw him, but didn't give him her usual smiley deposition. In fact, she looked a little guilty.

"I don't feel right about last night," she said, as she looked at West.

"Don't be. We both know she deserved it," he said, putting his hands on her arms.

"Do we? She didn't do anything wrong. Sure, she was a bitch, but did she deserve this?" Claire looked down from West's face.

"Yeah, she deserved this _because_ she was a bitch," West smiled. Claire pulled away from West's grip and went back to her homework. Peter saw this, and smiled. Claire was finally coming to her senses.

"You don't get it! It's wrong, okay?" Claire turned back at West. "You know what, if you think it's right, if you think it's okay, you'd better leave," she said.

Peter's smile grew. He was enjoying this.

"Claire," West said.

"Now," Claire said, no compassion in her face.

Peter saw the dark-haired teenager go out the door, turning back to look at Claire one more time, and flew out. Claire faced back to her homework, that Peter thought she had lost concentration now, and he could see her crack a small smile on her lips. She got up, picked up her books and prepared to go up to her room.

But she stopped. Her books dropped to the floor, her smile gone from her face. Claire was in awe, looking at something miraculous. And she was looking right at Peter.

She could see him.

* * *

A/N: This wasn't my best chapter, but I had fun writing it. Review, people!


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Chapter Four

Air silent around them, like an invisible cloak of silence had veiled itself upon the two. Claire's strewn books lay ignored as she finally cracked a smile. Peter stood awestruck.

_She can see me? _How was this possible? For days, he was nothing to Claire. She couldn't see him, or hear him. Now, for some reason, she could see him? The raven-haired spirit stepped back a step.

"Peter?" Claire asked. She was smiling broadly now.

"How are you alive?" Peter swallowed, and said,

"I'm not, actually."

"What do you mean?" Claire's smile was going away by the second.

The blonde eyed Peter, speechless. "I'm a spirit, and I'm not sure how exactly you can see me. I mean, no one else can," Peter explained.

"Maybe it's because we're connected," Claire said, a small smile painting itself on her lips. Peter finally smiled.

They were connected. Claire gave him a loving embrace, with a sigh of relief escaping her lips. The scene faded, Claire and her smile that made his heart jump disappeared.

He was having a vision.

* * *

He was somewhere. Walls of concrete surrounded him. The spirit saw not too much, just himself lying on the bed. How was this possible? Peter was dead, and always would be.

My body's still out there. I have to get there. His vision evaporated and there he was again, in Claire's arms, his face frozen. Claire saw Peter's face and asked, "What's wrong? What happened?"

"I had a vision," Peter said.

"About what? Is something bad going to happen? Like the explosion?" Claire was rambling now, her face concerned.

"No, nothing like that. I think there's a possibility I'm still alive," Peter said, knowing the sentence sounded as stupid as he thought it was.

"What? How?" Claire asked. "My body's still out there. I just have to get to it," Peter explained.

"Let me help you."

"Are you sure?"

"I just got you back," Claire said, smiling, "You're not going away that easily." Peter smiled. At that moment, his heart for Claire grew by miles.

* * *

Noah was not that keen on letting Claire go. The foster father of Claire didn't budge, even after she said she was going with Peter.

"Peter's dead, Claire," he said.

"No, he's not. And I have to go before he is!" Claire was yelling now.

"Claire, you don't have to…" Peter said, sitting right beside her during the father/daughter argument.

"Shut up, Peter! We both know I have to go," Claire snapped.

She looked back at her father, preparing for a sequel of their argument. "Even if Peter was alive, this would be dangerous! Do you know how many people are looking for you?" Noah said to her daughter.

"Maybe you should listen to him, Claire," Peter said, his face worried.

He never thought of it. Yes, it was going to be dangerous for Claire. After all, the Company was after her. Peter, well, Peter was safe enough. No one else but Claire knew he was alive. There was no telling what they'd do to Claire if they found her. Peter couldn't live with himself if that happened.

"I'll take that chance for Peter," Claire said, walking away from her father. She nudged Peter to come with her.

* * *

"Your father doesn't want you to go, Claire," Peter argued.

The two were up in Claire's room, just moments after Claire and Noah's argument. The girl was sitting cross-legged on her bed, thinking intently. As soon as Peter said his latest argument, Claire's face lit up, as if the imaginary light bulb of her head flashed.

"Maybe," she smiled "he doesn't need to. I could just run with you!"

Peter looked at Claire like she was maniac. Since when was she so free-spirited?

"Look, Claire. I'm not guaranteeing that this is going to be safe, for either of us," Peter said, concerned.

"Peter," Claire said.

Peter loved it when Claire said his name; it was nothing more than a breath but it gave his heart the satisfaction that his name was probably the only one that was said with that kind of adoration. Who else saved the cheerleader?

"We both know I'm always safe when I'm with you." Claire placed her hands on his hands.

This time, he actually felt it. The loving embrace they shared earlier was nothing compared to the skin-to-skin contact he was having now. He felt the softness of her skin on his coarse one.

"Fine," Peter gave in.

Claire smiled and hopped off the bed. She went to pack the necessaries for the trip. But she turned back to Peter, hands on her hips.

"Any idea where we're going?" she asked.

Prior to Claire's question, the spirit never thought of the where of the situation. So he let his vision immerse him. He noticed things he didn't the first time. For one thing, there was a tall, blonde man that had a syringe in his arm, and for the other was the IV strapped to Peter's arm. 'Property of New York City Hospital', it read. Peter turned back to reality, and saw Claire with her arms crossed.

"New York City," Peter answered.

* * *

Claire Bennet expected a flight to New York, or at least some form of modern transportation. What she got was less than ideal.

"Ready?" Peter asked the seventeen-year-old blonde.

All her things went into her beloved Union Wells bag. The same one she had when Peter and she met. A grey jacket joined the necessities in it, and Claire said, "Yeah."

Peter stood up, facing Claire with those brown eyes Claire fantasized about before she found out he was her uncle.

"Good," he smiled.

Before she knew it, Peter's hands were located just above her rear end, sitting comfortably on her waist. Claire couldn't help smiling. Although she never confided it, Claire was a little in love with her uncle. Ever since they met in the hallways of Union Wells High School. She loved the fact he jumped off a building for a perfect stranger.

Claire's grip on her bag tightened as her room was thrown off the course of reality, and all she could see was dark spaces for a few moments. But she soon found herself in front of a drabby apartment building.

"Where are we?" Claire asked. She realized that even after their teleportation, Peter's hands didn't go away. Claire blushed at the thought of an innocent on-looker passing them for a kissing couple. But she felt one of Peter's hands go away as he extended it to say, "My home."

* * *

Peter's humble abode seemed too…what was the word? Not Peter, Claire concluded. Dark blue and black painted themselves on the walls, and the only thing of color was the mantelpiece, painted brown and occupied what it seemed to be millions of scattered memories.

Claire saw Peter crack a smile in the corner of her eye.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," Peter said. "I'm just happy we're in this together."

Claire didn't know how to react. An embrace, maybe? Or a pat on the shoulder? Claire chose the latter and made Peter look at her. She felt Peter's arms wrap themselves around her. They pulled away, as Peter's face soon became serious.

"What's wrong?" she asked, as she tucked her blonde hair behind her ear.

"Sit down," Peter said, nudging to the brown couch. "I have something to tell you."

Claire did so, and took Peter's hands in her own.

"What's up?" she asked.

"This might come as a shock, Claire. But I need you to know that I didn't mean for this to happen. Far from it," Peter said, the last sentence just a mumble to Claire.

"Peter, you're scaring me. What's wrong?" Claire asked. Peter locked his brown eyes with Claire's green ones, and finally said it. A confession.

"I think I'm in love with you." Straight out like that.

Not 'I love you', because that would rise the question "Like family?" from Claire. Not a straight out 'I'm in love with you', because that would be too big to handle for Claire.

But to Peter's surprise, she smiled. She put her hands on his shoulders. "Peter," she said.

That was it, his name again. The way she said his name, God, it made his stomach churn, almost made his heart stop. Made him want to kiss her so hard that she thought all the oxygen left the room. Made him want to press his body against hers. When did his name become so pornographic?

"I love you, too," Claire finally said.

Say what? The spirit was taken aback. But he didn't have the moment to indulge in doubt. Next thing he knew, Claire was kissing him on the mouth. Peter kissed her back, putting his hands on her jaw.

This is real, Peter thought. This is perfect!

* * *

A/N: Yes, people, I made them kiss! Okay, you know what to do: Review!


	5. Chapter 5

My friends were confused how it is that Paire can kiss. To clear up confusion, the explanation is this: In this verse, if you see a spirit, you can ultimately hear and feel and the whole five senses. So on to the next chapter! Remember: I own NOTHING

* * *

Chapter Five

The cheerleader and the spirit continued to kiss for the next several moments, until they pulled apart, and sat there on the couch, holding hands. Claire looked at Peter, as her head laid itself on the couch.

"Thank you, Peter," she said, and moved forward to give him another kiss.

She tugged at his hand as she went back her original position. Peter, at that moment, didn't care if it was wrong. He didn't care that he was just kissing his niece, only that he just finished the most incredible make-out session of his life.

"I have a question, though," Peter said.

"Oh? What's that?' Claire smiled.

"Why is it that you can see me? When no one else, not even Nathan, could see me?" Peter asked the woman.

Claire moved forward to face him. "I'm going to pull a Shakespeare on you. 'Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,'" she smiled, as she placed yet another kiss on Peter's mouth.

"God, I love you," was the only thing Peter could say to her.

* * *

Peter explored the apartment he left behind, as Claire went off to bed with a quick peck on the cheek.

In his whole life (and afterlife) he had never been this happy. Not with Simone, not with anyone. As Claire trotted off, his heart was already beginning to ache. Their new found relationship might cross any ethical rules Peter had before, but, God, he didn't care.

The spirit saw the marks Nathan left behind in the apartment, plus the moments Peter remembered from it. The mantelpiece seemed the most bold, though. When he first entered his former abode, it was the first thing he noticed.

Nathan put a lot of effort to it, with memories that displayed nothing but the good and happy of their shared life. He spotted one picture of Peter and Claire. It was the same picture Claire had in her bedroom.

The last time he saw it, he felt longing, this time, he felt happiness, for the one thing he longed for, he already had. His fingers moved on to the next picture.

It was of him and Nathan. Oh God. Why am doing this? He thought as he saw the picture. He shouldn't be in love with his daughter, he shouldn't think of Claire like that. She was his niece, for God's sake!

But you love her, another part of him said, and she loves you. That should mean something!

The other part of him, always honorable and respective, said 'But she's your niece! She's your brother's daughter! Now _that_ should mean something!' Peter sat down.

Wasn't it just a few moments ago, he was happy?

* * *

Claire woke up in 20 minutes. She woke up in Peter's bed, and, after their little make-out session, she couldn't wait until she woke up with Peter by her side.

She crawled out of bed, and smiled. She found Peter in the living room, with his hands covering in his head. She sat next to him, and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Peter?" she said.

She kissed the tip of his shoulders, and made him look at her. She felt his hand sit on top of hers and saw Peter kiss it tenderly. God, that felt so good. But he pulled away.

"No," she heard him say.

"Peter, what's wrong?" Claire asked, locking her green eyes with his brown ones.

"We can't do this," he said.

The words hurt Claire, more than anything ever did. She had died, had been hurt before, probably more than two hands could count, but this, this hurt more than any of those.

"But I love you, Peter," Claire placed a hard kiss on Peter's mouth to persuade him. But he pulled away before it got harder for him.

He stood up, looking angry. "Listen, this whole thing was a mistake, okay?" he said.

"Peter, this whole thing was the best thing that ever happened to me! You can't just say it was a mistake!" Claire argued.

"But it was! Claire, you don't get it! This is wrong, you hear me?" Peter shot back.

"Doesn't love make it right?" Claire said, realizing how corny that sounded.

"Let's not forget my brother is your father!" Peter pointed a finger at her.

"It doesn't change how I feel about you, Peter," Claire said.

"What if I don't feel the same way?"

* * *

It was the hardest thing Peter ever had to do in his life. It broke his heart to say "I don't love you," when, in fact, he did. It tore him apart to see the woman he loved trot away with tears streaming down her face. Tears he could never wipe away.

His heart burned up, as he saw the picture that made it possible. The picture of Peter and Nathan on Nathan's wedding day.

He looked at the smiles on their faces. Claire must've been a kid when this picture was taken, full of innocence. Peter tried to imagine the blonde as an eight-year-old, but couldn't.

All he could think of was the Claire now. The Claire he grew to love over time. Peter's hands were now gripped angrily on the frame, and suddenly came an unexpected move. He smashed the picture on the floor.

Glass was all around him, and he put his hands on his face only to be immersed in another vision.

* * *

He saw a flying boy kidnapping an older man. He seemed familiar, the flying boy. Peter took a closer look at him.

It was West.

"Why are you doing this?" Noah asked the teenager.

His kidnapper merely smirked at the question and answered, "I've been working for the Company."

Peter was shocked, and it showed on his face. West was working for the Company? His insides burned at the revelation: What if he had gotten to Claire?

The scene changed quickly; from the lush green landscapes of an LA park to a parking lot where the sun was already setting. Peter saw a few characters he knew: Noah, Mohinder, West and Claire.

Everything seemed awry; Mohinder had a gun pointed at Bennet, Claire was being pushed back from the scene by West, who was clearly enjoying the moment.

Then everything went to hell with just one, simple action. Mohinder pulled the trigger, and Peter saw Noah's body fall to the ground, limp and lifeless. Claire was screaming out now, and cried. She walked to her father, and sobbed at the body.

"Dad," Peter heard her say. The scene dissolved and Peter found himself back at his apartment. He did the one thing he could do: call Claire.

* * *

Claire was in her room, sobbing, when she heard her name being called out. Peter, she thought. She was reluctant to answer at first, but then thought Peter had finally come to his senses. Maybe Peter would finally utter those three words she'd been dying to hear, and finally mean it.

"Claire?" she heard it again. The blonde opened the door, revealing a distraught Peter.

"Claire," Peter said.

"Peter, what's wrong?" she asked.

"It's your father," Peter said.

Claire, always the awkward joker, crossed her arms and said, "Which one?"

She saw Peter smile at the comment, but answered as if it was a real question. "Bennet. I had a vision of him getting shot," Peter said.

Claire was limp, but managed to ask "When? Where?"

"I don't know when, but I do know where," Peter continued with telling her it was in a parking lot in Costa Verde.

"I'm going," she pushed past Peter and started to the door.

"Let me come with you," Peter suggested. He realized how stupid that was. Of course she didn't want him to come, after what he did.

And he was right: Claire left the apartment without another word spoken.

* * *

A/N: REVIEW!!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The blonde man was getting lonelier with his days. He didn't have a hobby, or a significant other to keep him company.

The morally gray man walked across his apartment, thinking. What was his life, besides the few women he threw away and the illegitimate children as a result? Of course, he was God, but doesn't every Adam need an Eve? He could probably cause the biggest famine in the world, and kill thousands, but truth was, what could was it if you didn't have an accomplice by your side?

He remembered Meredith Gordon, sweet Meredith Gordon whom he sincerely cared about once upon a time. She had been with him, even through his raging madness of being God. He placed his hands on his forehead.

The phone rang unexpectedly, surprisingly the so-called God.

"Adam, I need you to do a job for me," the woman on the other line said.

Ah, Angela. How he missed her, and the unexpected ways she did to make things go her way.

"My pleasure," the blonde man, Adam, answered.

"I need you to resurrect my son," Angela Petrelli said. That's a job you don't get every day, he thought.

* * *

After Claire left, Peter decided to go to his mother's place. Sure, she wouldn't be the first person Peter would go to, but she was still his mother, even if she could see him or not.

The spirit teleported to the posh house, where maids served food to every visitor and the tiles perfectly polished. He instantly saw his mother in the living room, talking on the phone.

"Mom?" he tried.

No response. Great, he thought, the only person who can see me doesn't even want to anymore.

"Adam, you need to understand how important it is for them not to know," she said to the other person.

Questions swirled in the spirit's mind. Adam? Did the family even know an Adam? What was so important? Who were 'they'? Peter listened some more to the conversation.

"Why, you ask? Do you not remember that you yourself did not want anyone to know? Peter and Claire should not know about this, end of question," Angela said.

Peter was shocked; Claire had something to do with this? Whatever this was?

"My son and your daughter must never know the truth, do you understand? Now, go and do what you need to do," Angela said, and with that the conversation ended, leaving Peter wearing a 'WTF?' look on his face.

Peter's back collided with the nearest wall. He had a mix of emotions inside them: anger, for his mother for not telling him truth, and some sort of happiness that it was actually right for Peter to love Claire.

It was right to hold her in his arms, and tell her he loved her and hear the same words coming out from her mouth as well. It was right for Peter to have the future dreams of having one big happy family with Claire. It was finally, truly right for them to be together.

* * *

Adam Monroe found his way to the hospital, where he was greeted with too-cheery smiles from doctors and the occasional wink from the hot nurse. He found the receptionist, a mousy brown-haired woman with spectacles hanging on her nose.

"Peter Petrelli's room?" he asked.

"Are you his family?" she asked sweetly.

"We're old friends," Adam said, displaying his 100-watt smile.

"I don't know why you want to visit him, though. He's already a vegetable," the woman said.

"I always believe they can hear you in a coma, don't you?" Adam lied.

The woman smiled back, and answered, "Room 524."

With that she coyly pressed a paper on the palm of his hand and mouthed, "Call me."

Adam smiled, but quickly stuffed the paper into the trash can. As if.

Room 522…room 523…Room 524. He saw Peter Petrelli, lying on his bed with an IV stuck in his arm.

"Seems you've had better days," Adam said to the limp body. He stuck a syringe in his arm, and injected it into Peter's IV, slowly bringing the empath back to life.

* * *

Peter teleported to California after he found out Claire wasn't a Petrelli. He couldn't wait to tell her. And finally hold her in his arms.

The raven-haired spirit found himself in the parking. Said parking lot was where everything was about to happen. The sun looked like it was about to set, signaling that everyone was going to be here soon.

Peter found himself having a soft, tingling sensation that quickly spread from the tip of his toes all the way to his torso, but he couldn't care less about it. All he cared about was getting to Claire so that they could be together.

From a distance, he could see two sleek, black cars. They were here.

But the tingling sensation did not yet cease, he kept feeling it, and he looked down at the palms of his hands. Only, there weren't any. Everything was fading. His feet were merely just part of the background and it was spreading to his torso. Quick.

He saw a blonde figure emerge from one of the cars, and he cried for her. Could she even see him when he was like this? He kept calling out Claire's name until he was finally lost in oblivion.

_Claire _was his last thought, and he was gone.

* * *

Adam only waited a few moments for the raven-haired Petrelli to wake up. He woke up with a big gasp of air, and a few coughs after that.

The blonde man just stood there, with his hands in his pockets. "Hello, my friend," he said. Peter looked at the smiling man, and looked more confused than ever.

"Where am I? Who are you?" he asked.

"In a hospital. You've been in a coma for four months, my friend. I'm Adam, don't you remember?" Adam explained.

"Last thing I remember is," Peter coughed, "exploding at Kirby Plaza."

Adam smiled. _That's all you need to know._

* * *

A/N: The plot thickens...DUN DUN DUN...I would just like to say thanks to the people that reviewed me and will review me, i'm glad you like my work. Spread the word: I'm the next best writer of the PAIRE community. LOL

-Aly


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I realized that I've been a Paire shipper for almost 2 years now, and I'm not really involved in the community. Anyone who can get me on the Paire fan forum, my username is alymaniac. Anyways, on to the next chapter. It's longer than my usual ones, but I hope you enjoy it, it's been grueling to write.

* * *

Chapter Seven

Year 2033

Adam Monroe was not one to admire property, but the Petrelli house was an exception. It had walls painted white, oak doors that looked perfectly polished and lush trees kept everything beautiful in the suburban home.

The blonde man tucked his hands in his pockets and roamed outside. Grass rippled under his feet as he saw the backyard. It looked like a kid's wonderland. Sand boxes sat there, looking like they hadn't been touched in a few years, a swing set was located at the far edge of the yard, painted pink and white; clearly a little girl's toy. A more grown up swing set sat in the front of the yard, probably for the parents to look at their child playing.

Adam smiled at the yard, it was a beautiful place to grow up, it seemed. He walked inside to the back door, opening up to the kitchen. His fingers brushed the polished dinner table and saw that a small table occupied memories. There were four or five, each pristine in their frames.

One word hung over it: _Family. _One of them occupied a teenage girl with a man wearing horn-rimmed glasses; the other had its space filled with the happy faces of two raven-haired men, brothers perhaps. The third one was filled with joy: a couple kissing on their wedding day. And the last two were of the same people: the same raven-haired man and the same blonde girl, but with a guest, another blonde girl.

Elle was her name that he knew. In fact, that was all he knew of his 24-year-old granddaughter; the Petrellis were reluctant to even let Adam close to her.

"What are you doing here?" someone asked him. It was the same blonde girl in the picture: it was his daughter.

"Get out, Adam," Claire said, angered, her arms crossed.

"Why ever would I leave?" Adam smirked.

"Peter's coming home soon, I don't want him to see you," Claire said, passing him by.

"Good, I've been meaning to catch up with my son-in-law for some time now," Adam said. "Besides, you can't boss God around, let alone your own father."

"You're not God, Adam!" Claire yelled. "You don't deserve to be ruler of earth!"

"I do, and I am," Adam said calmly, as if it was a world-known fact.

"No, you don't!" Claire yelled. Adam gripped on her arms, making her look at him.

"How dare you! How dare you yell at your own father?" Adam spat in her face.

"Claire? I'm home!" a cheery voice interrupted Claire's comeback.

Peter. Adam placed a finger on his lips and smiled. "No," Claire whispered. "Don't hurt him." she saw him disappear to the doorway, where she knew Peter was standing.

Claire followed him, and saw that Peter had his back turned to Adam, not knowing what was waiting for him when he turned around.

"I got great news. Elle's coming to visit us today!" Peter locked the door. "That is good news," Adam said. Peter turned around to see Claire's father with a gun that wasn't there before facing him.

"Claire?" Peter said, a plead to his wife of 25 years.

"I'm sorry," Claire shook her head.

"You can't kill me, Adam," Peter said to him.

"Seems I haven't told you yet. Regenerative people, like the three of us, can die. With just one shot to the head," Adam said.

"I don't believe you," Peter said spitefully.

"Let me show you, then," Adam said, pulling the trigger.

Claire saw her husband drop to the floor, with the bullet through his forehead. "Peter!" she ran to his side, and cried. "Come on, Peter, regenerate. Please." The last word was said in between sobs for the love of her life.

"He can't," Adam said, smirking.

Claire turned back to Peter, seeing him draw his last breaths. "I love you," he said, between gasps of air. Claire placed a kiss on his mouth, and cried as his eyes died out. Claire put her head to his chest.

"Why did you do this? He didn't deserve this," she said to Adam.

"He didn't deserve to live," Adam said, and saw Claire stand up and look and him. "You don't either," he said.

With that, he shot Claire through the head, the same position as her husband and watched her fall on Peter. _Till death does them part _Adam recited as he saw them tangled on the floor. He saw at the corner of his eye Elle's picture and decided to pay her a little visit.

* * *

Elle Petrelli was somewhat excited to be going home. It's been weeks since she saw her parents, ever since her grandmother's funeral. And God knew that that wasn't a happy occasion for either of them.

Elle brushed away her blonde hair from her face, as she packed her t-shirts in her bag. She was excited to see her parents' happy faces as she walked through the door and feel their hugs again. Plus, Nathan was coming along, too. And it was always more fun whenever her uncle tagged along.

She looked out the window of her apartment and saw that the blue skies were endless today. It was like the world was saying it was a good day to visit her parents. She sat down on her bed, and gave her room one last look before she left. It wasn't anything too fancy; just a normal apartment for a not-so normal girl.

Elle was 16 when she discovered her abilities, the same age her mother was when she discovered hers. She was in the backyard of her home, swinging her swing, thinking.

The sixteen-year-old was thinking about when her own powers would manifest, after seeing her parents fool around with theirs. Her mother would take out the cake from the oven with no gloves, and smile about it. Her father, well, there wasn't anything he couldn't do, but chose not to use them very much. Elle swung harder, faster on the pink-and-white swing. So hard that she fell on the ground.

"Ugh," she grunted as she got up.

Her ankle was hurting, so she put her hand on it, realizing that it was entirely dislocated. "Shit," she cursed.

But the next event was purely instinct-like: she put her ankle to its original position with a loud crack. "Oh my God," she said.

After that, they visited the family geneticist, Mohinder, who assured the young girl that she did, in fact, have her mother's regenerative and three other abilities.

"Elle, you are the first person I've met who has more than one ability," he said proudly.

"What does that mean?" Claire asked.

"Elle is the next step in evolution," Mohinder said, patting her shoulder.

Elle looked at her parents' expressions. Claire was somewhat smiling at the revelation, perhaps she was proud? But Peter was glum, his arms crossed. Mohinder explained that her other abilities included telekinesis, time-traveling and the power to make any evolved human normal. She learned the latter the hard way: she had accidentally drained Matt Parkman of his telepathic powers.

The 24-year-old Elle zipped her bag and carried it as she started to depart her refuge, but the phone rang unexpectedly.

"Elle?" the voice said. It was Nathan.

"Hi, Nathan. I'll be right there," she said.

"No, I don't think that's a good idea," Nathan said.

"Why? What's wrong?" Elle sat down.

"Peter and Claire are dead. They got shot in the head. And we both know that that's a shot they can't recover from," Nathan said.

"I'm sorry." Elle hung up the phone, realizing that she was already crying. But her mourning for the loss was cut short when she heard a voice.

"Elle, good to finally meet you," he said. She dropped her bag to the floor.

"Adam," she said.

"You do know me," Adam said, closing the door behind him.

Yes, Elle knew him. This was the man that her parents had showed her to, so that she'd know never to go near him. "He's a dangerous man, Elle," her father had warned.

Elle was in shock, and sat down on a chair, that quickly became her hostage territory. Adam taped her to it, and Elle was too much in shock that she couldn't channel her telekinesis.

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

"Your life," Adam said.

"You can't touch me," Elle said.

Adam smirked. Adam pulled out the gun he used to shoot peter and Claire before, and put it in front of Elle's face.

"I can make you mortal," she said.

"What?" Adam asked.

"I can make you normal, un-extraordinary with just one touch," Elle said.

"That, my dear, is what I don't believe," Adam said. "And guess what? I don't need the time to believe it."

With that, was one action that made the blonde beauty fall, her wrists still taped together, looking beautiful as her blonde spread around her like a halo. But what was different about her was that she had a bullet hole, clean, through her chest.

* * *

Year 2008

Peter Petrelli looked at the blonde man who was still smiling. Who was this man and why was he looking at him with such a smirk?

"Who are you?" he asked, a second time.

"My name is Adam Monroe. I work for the Company," he explained. The Company, the name seemed familiar to Peter, like it used to mean something.

"What's that? The Company?" Peter asked, straightening up.

"We work to help people with abilities. To make them understand, or, if needed, elimination of their gifts," Adam said.

"You can get rid of my ability?" Peter was in awe.

If this was possible, he could save so many. He wouldn't let another explosion happen, another catalyst.

"Yes, indeed," Adam said, placing his hand on Peter's shoulder.

"Come with me, my friend. We can fix you." Peter looks up at the man, and nodded.

* * *

Year 2033

Elle laid on the floor, knowing the shot was not going to kill her. She just needed the perfect time to regenerate. Her brain woke up, and heard Adam go out of the room.

The blonde woman quickly used her telekinesis to untie her and pulled out the bullet out of her chest. It was a gruesome action, to see the thing that killed you in the palm of your hand.

She placed the bullet on the coffee table, as she spat blood on the floor. She wiped her sleeve on her mouth, seeing more blood. But she couldn't care less. Elle quickly tore off the remaining tape, and saw that the window was the easiest way to get out. But it wouldn't budge.

Why, oh, why didn't she get the damn window fixed already? She heard footsteps coming towards the bedroom, and suddenly at her hands, the window opening, the breeze slapping her face.

She climbed out, and closed back the window. Judging by her speedy escape, she thought she made it without being heard or seen by Adam. But she had to ruin it. She turned back to make sure it was properly closed, and then she saw him.

Saw Adam looking back at her, his face confused and perplexed at first, but it soon turned menacing. As he saw her go, he didn't stop her because he had a sudden epiphany.

He thanked himself (not God, he was already that) that he found out about his time-traveling abilities. He needed them, because he couldn't kill Elle Petrelli, he'll make sure that she's never born. The atmosphere of Elle's apartment disappeared as he landed on earth in 1973

* * *

Year 1973

Adam Monroe ended up where he was. The past him was in his bedroom, currently sleeping. His attire was the same old, same old: the grey t-shirt with a simple pair of pants. The future Adam chuckled at the life he used to lead. What did he know that he would soon become God?

Adam shook the younger him, until he grunted. The younger Adam Monroe stirred in sleep, but his eyes soon opened.

"Wake up," Future Adam said. Present Adam did nothing, but soon was scared out of wits.

"How are you doing this?" he asked.

"You will discover time-traveling abilities, blah blah blah…But what's really important is what I need you to do now," his companion said.

"And what's that?" Present Adam straightened up.

"You need to form the Company, and its aim will be helping others with abilities. You need to make sure Elle Petrelli is never born," Future Adam explained.

"Petrelli? She's a Petrelli?" Present Adam asked.

"She is going to be our granddaughter. Peter Petrelli and Claire Bennet's daughter. They are going to die in the future, and you need to make sure of that," Future Adam said.

Present Adam's mind boggled. Who were these people? Since none of these names meant anything to him. Who was Peter Petrelli? Because, as far as he knew, the Petrellis only consisted of Nathan, Arthur and Angela. Claire Bennet was more of a mystery. He didn't even know any Bennets.

But because of all of these reasons, the younger Adam nodded as his future self disappeared.

* * *

Early 1991

He couldn't believe that it was almost two decades ago that he thought the names his future self had said meant nothing. Now he knew. Peter Petrelli was almost ten years old now, that he knew.

Claire Bennet, he assumed, was his soon-to-be-born daughter, since Meredith had picked out some names for the baby and Claire just happened to be one of them. He thought of this as he sat in his Company cell.

Adam built this Company, and they kept him in a cage. Did the future already plan this for Adam?

He thought of Claire, and of what his future self had said. She was going to die. She was to be killed in the future, and he actually wanted her to die. Was Claire to do something bad? Something that even Adam could not forgive her for? And what of Peter Petrelli? Did he really deserve it?

The guilt had been eating him the last few days, and now it was killing him. he had to tell Angela about it. But luckily, the woman of the Petrelli clan came knocking on his door.

"Good morning, Adam," she said, her arms crossed.

"Morning, is it? I lose track of time here," Adam said. "Listen, Angela, I have to tell you something."

"Which is?" Angela asked.

"Peter and my future daughter, Claire, are going to get married in the future," Adam looked down.

"That's absurd, Adam. My son is smart enough to not marry a girl 10 years younger than him," Angela said.

"It's true. My future self told me," Adam said. "And you yourself said that I might have manifested another ability."

"Why are you telling me this?" Angela asked.

Adam looked down. "Because our children are going to get killed in the future."

* * *

A/N: I know this might be a very confusing chapter (it was for me) so you can post any questions and I'll answer.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: To answer RLD Flame-point Callie-co, your first question, Adam didn't straight away shoot Elle because he's a twisted mind and just wants to play games. Your second question will be answered in this chapter. And, just to satisfy myself, I added a little future Mocah (Molly/Micah) in this chapter. LOL

* * *

Chapter Eight

Year 1991

Plans went into motion as soon as Claire Monroe was born. Meredith had been briefed about it before. She was reluctant at first, but realized that it was the best for Claire, and it would finally mean that Adam did what he was told to do: destroy the existence of Elle Petrelli.

Adam sat in Meredith's hospital room, and looked at his newborn daughter. In a few moments, her last name would be changed to Petrelli, and it would break his heart. He watched Meredith sleep in her hospital gown.

She gave birth to Claire in a Company facility, where he knew they would all be safe. No one would have to know about it. Angela said, on the night he told her, that the only way to stop their children's deaths were to never make them fall in love and get married.

The only way to do that was to make them related. Nathan Petrelli had fallen into the spell of Maury Parkman, who agreed to mind wrap Nathan to thinking he slept with Meredith. Meredith, however, was paid enough money to keep her safe, and to keep her going with the scheme. Adam held her hand, and felt a sharp tug back.

"Why do you have to leave?" she asked, tired.

"So that Claire can be safe," Adam answered.

"I get it that we have to tell Nathan he slept with me, but why do you have to leave? It doesn't make any sense, Adam," she said, locking her eyes with his.

"I'll always be there, just not in the main picture, that's all," Adam kissed her forehead.

"Claire deserves to be a Monroe," Meredith said.

"Trust me, I won't be a good father anyway," Adam smiled. With that, he gave Claire a kiss and left.

* * *

18 months later

There was something Meredith never found out about the plan, and she was never supposed to know. There was supposed to be a fire. Meredith would survive, Adam knew, but Claire was a loss cause.

The second the plan was in motion, he alerted the Company's best agents, Bennet and Claude, to go to the Gordon residence. Meredith would never know that Claire survived, and neither would Nathan.

Baby Claire, Adam decided, would not go to him. He loved her, she was his blood, but he knew that if Claire was left in his arms, there would be no chance of her leaving.

So he watched as Kaito Nakamura handed Claire to Bennet. Kaito knew the plan, and had all along. He was reluctant at first, but as Adam said it was to destroy someone evil's existence, he agreed.

Adam's face was sour, but knew that this was the best for both of them. Claire would be safe now.

* * *

Year 2033

Elle Petrelli was very resourceful; it only took moments for her to find Adam once again. The Company always kept their eyes on Adam Monroe, all she needed was to get Micah Sanders hack into the system and then she was in.

"Thanks, Micah," she said, as she sat in front of his computer.

"No problem, Elle. And I'm sorry about your parents," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Elle turned back at him, and smiled at the strapping man. "It's fine. Congratulations, though. I heard Molly gave birth last week," she said.

Molly Walker and Micah Sanders got married at a young age. They eloped as soon as Molly turned eighteen. They were the perfect example of a happy family: two parents that loved each other and two kids.

"Our second boy. We named him Matthew," Micah said.

Elle smiled, and turned back to the computer. She clicked on the Adam Monroe file. All of them, she already watched, except for one. The 1991 file looked new, as if it was just newly updated.

"I'm going to go check on Molly. Holler if you need anything, Elle," Micah said.

"Yeah," Elle said absent-mindedly. She clicked on the 1991 file, and saw something she didn't see before. Adam was talking to Angela. Elle turned up the volume, and listened.

"Why are you telling me this?" she heard Angela say.

"Because our children are going to get killed in the future," she heard Adam say.

How did he know that? Elle thought about it and concluded that the only way he could've known that Peter and Claire would get killed in the future was if the future Adam told him.

He changed the past, so that Peter and Claire wouldn't get married, so that Elle would not exist. She needed to save herself, before her conception date, which just happened to be 5 days away. She went downstairs, and saw Micah and Molly on the couch with a newborn, Matthew.

"Molly, Micah," Elle said. "I have to go. Thank you for everything."

"Elle, what's wrong?" Micah asked.

"I have to go back into the past and save myself," she said, putting on her jacket. When they were kids, Micah and Molly would've been in shock, but now, they weren't that surprised: they'd heard stranger things.

"Take care, Elle," Molly gave the blonde girl a hug. With that, Elle teleported back to 2008

* * *

2008

Kaito Nakamura was a man who just wanted redemption for what he'd done in the past. Of his mistakes, and the catalysts that were results of them. He didn't want to be the only one that felt this way, so he paid a visit to Angela Petrelli's house.

He rung the bell, and was greeted by a handsome-looking black man. A butler, most probably.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Kaito Nakamura, I need to speak with Angela Petrelli now," he said.

"Yes, sir. Let me lead you to her," he said, as he led the way to the posh Petrelli living room.

It had polished floors, and the only one that filled the space was a black-haired woman. "Angela," Kaito said, as the black man disappeared.

"Kaito, what a surprise," Angela stood up.

"I need to talk to you," he said. She extended her hand to the nearest chair.

"What is it?" she said, sitting back down.

"I feel guilty for what I have done," Kaito said. "And you should, too, Angela."

Angela remembered the time when she lied to Claire, saying that Nathan was her biological, and immediately saw her face fall.

"I did it to save my son," Angela said calmly.

"It does not make it right, Angela!"

Angela looked at him and said, "What do you know about right and wrong, Kaito?"

"Not much. But I know this isn't right. I could see Peter hurt, Angela. How can you possibly be happy with that?" Kaito asked.

"He can hurt all he wants, Kaito, as long as he is alive, it's fine by me," Angela said. "There is no convincing you," Kaito stood up, and took his jacket. With that, he left Angela alone in the living room, dwelling in thought

* * *

Claire and her family decided to cremate her father, so that his ashes could be scattered at sunset. It was a beautiful gesture, but Claire couldn't help think that maybe it would've been better if he was laid to rest in the ground.

Her mother parked the car, and looked at Claire with tears in her eyes. No words needed to be spoken; just her hand held was enough. Lyle was quiet at the back, probably sobbing.

Claire turned to her foster brother, and saw that his face was decorated with wet and dry tears alike. She had never seen him cry, she thought, as she said, "It's okay, Lyle."

The Bennet family got out of their car, and saw that the sun was about to set. Lyle put his hands on his sister's shoulders, meaning to comfort her. It was decided that each Bennet would take a handful of the ashes to throw to sea. Claire was obviously first.

She stood in front of the rocks, and held the urn in her hands carefully. "Dad, I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I'm probably the reason you're dead, but you've got to know that I love you, Dad. I love you," she said, and with that, she grabbed a handful and saw it scatter.

Her mother was next. "Noah, you needed to be the hero. I don't blame you for it. You were the love of life, Noah, and you'll always be. Thank you for giving me a perfect life," she said, and did the same thing as Claire, and watched her husband's ashes scatter into the sea.

Lyle was reluctant to go, but Claire insisted. The teenage boy did not say a word; all he did was stand there and scatter his father's ashes. Claire didn't blame him; it was harder for him since Noah had been his biological father. Claire watched her brother walk back to them, and gave him a tight hug.

From a distance, she saw a car. A blue car that occupied a blonde girl. _No, the Company's not getting me that easy_, she thought, as she assumed the girl was an agent. She walked towards it, angered.

"Claire!" her mother said, but Claire ignored her.

"Get out of the car," Claire said to the girl.

The girl did so, and looked calm doing so. "You get away from my family, you hear me?" Claire said.

With that, she punched the other girl in the face, resulting in her bloody nose.

"I don't work for the Company," she said. "I'm from the future. I'm your future daughter."

"That's full of crap. I don't believe you," Claire crossed her arms.

"I'm not only your daughter, I'm Peter's, too," the girl said.

Now, Claire was in shock. No way was she going to have a kid with Peter, not after what he did.

"Don't believe me? Go to Meredith Gordon, she'll tell you the truth," she said. For some reason, Claire nodded.

* * *

A/N: Hard at work to finish this story before Heroes premieres (4 more days!!) so expect the end in the four days.

-Aly


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

Chapter Nine

Peter was getting more comfortable in his Company cell. Sure, it was a cell, with concrete walls that kept him locked up, but it was the only place everyone else would be safe. The door opened, and Peter stood up a little in his small bed. It was just Adam.

"They're not going to bother you anymore, my friend," he said, as he sat at the nearest chair.

"What lie did you use?" Peter asked, indicating to the agents that he snapped at for not leaving him alone.

"Said that you were a crazy schizophrenic and to hit the alarm if you ever got loose," Adam chuckled. Peter, too, laughed. "Though, you can't stop the agents coming in. They're still going to pay you visits."

"I'm sure," Peter said.

The door opened, revealing an agent, one he hadn't seen before. Usually, it was some youngish man donning a black suit with a tray of Peter's medication. This time, it was a beautiful, blonde woman who was wearing similar colors of a normal agent, black and blue, but they looked far better on her than it ever did on everyone else. Peter was instantly reminded of someone.

A girl with beautiful green eyes and blonde hair that he always thought was made of nothing but honey and sunshine. Claire.

"I've got to go, my friend," Adam said, as he saw the girl.

"Bye, Adam," Peter said, his eyes still fixed on the woman.

As Adam left, he saw the girl cast a spiteful look at him.

"Hi, Peter, I'm Elle," she said.

"I'm surprised you're talking to me. Adam told everyone that I'm a crazy schizo," Peter said.

"Oh, I don't believe him one bit," Elle smiled.

God, even her smile looked a little like Claire's. And Claire was basically all he thought of in his tiny cell. Nothing like a little rebound to get his mind clear.

"Oh, you don't want to hit on me, Peter," Elle smiled, as if reading his mind. In this world, Peter wouldn't be surprised if she was."Listen, I have something to tell you."

"And what's that?" Peter asked, crossing his arms.

"Adam Monroe's a bad man. You shouldn't trust him," Elle took in a business like tone.

"Adam Monroe's helping me," Peter said. "Besides, why should I believe you?"

"I'm from the future," Elle said, matter-of-factly.

"That's why I should believe you? Because you're from the future? Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Peter asked.

"Yes, actually. Because, you know, my parents met at my mother's homecoming. I've learned from them that you can't escape destiny," Elle locked eyes with Peter, "So let me guess, you met a beautiful, blonde girl at high school homecoming, didn't you?"

Peter was soon drenched in memories. Union Wells high school, the smiling cheerleader, their little conversation near the trophy case, and the smile she gave him.

"Look, kid, I didn't meet your mother that night," Peter said, but quickly realized, "I, I met my niece."

"You might wanna believe me now, Peter. You've been lied to, and I suggest you follow the yellow brick road to your mother's house to find the truth," Elle said. With that, the door behind her closed, leaving Peter alone. More confused than ever.

* * *

Kermit, Texas was not one of the places Claire Bennet thought she would ever visit again. The trailer park was still home to Meredith Gordon, despite what she told Claire, that she decided to go to Mexico.

She knocked on the door, the first few times were met by nothing, just an absence of sound, but she soon heard footsteps from inside. The door opened, revealing the blonde woman who gave birth to Claire.

"Claire?" she asked. "What're you doing here?"

"I need to find some answers," Claire answered.

"Sure, sure, come in, Claire," Meredith welcomed her into her trailer.

Claire looked around, and realized that the place hadn't changed, just a few more knick knacks around. Meredith sat down at the same table, and Claire in the same seat. The only difference was that Claire was now short of a father.

"What do you wanna know? Is it your abilities?" Meredith asked.

"No, nothing like that. It's just," Claire began, but thought that the end of the sentence might shock Meredith but continued anyway, "my future daughter told me that I should come here to find the truth."

"Your future daughter?" Meredith was almost laughing.

"I'm not kidding. She told me to ask you," Claire paused, "Is Peter Petrelli really my uncle?" Claire immediately saw the changes of her mother's face.

It fell entirely as she bowed her head down to look at the floor. It soon came back up, and her hands tangled themselves around Claire.

"Oh, Claire," was all she needed to say to make Claire's own face change. "Listen, you've gotta know. Your daddy did this to save you," Meredith said.

"And my dad isn't exactly Nathan Petrelli, is he?" Claire asked, crossing her arms.

"No," Meredith said. "It's Adam Monroe."

"Adam Monroe?" Claire asked, and Meredith nodded. "What did he do?"

"He told me that you were going to killed in the future. And he told me that I had to play along to save you. He told me that you and Peter were married in the future, and your future daughter was a threat to the world, and this was the only way to stop that," Meredith said.

"By making me and Peter related?" Claire yelled. She was standing up now, her back leaning against the wall.

"Baby girl, do you love him?" Meredith asked.

The truth just came out of Claire: "Yes, I do. I love him." It even struck Claire as a surprise. After what he did, did she have the right to love him anymore?

Meredith hugged Claire. They stood like that for the next few moments, until Meredith said, "I'm so sorry." Claire left after that, calling the number her daughter gave her.

* * *

Elle told her mother that she was at the Ericson motel, just near Kermit. The room was small, but only makeshift so Elle couldn't have cared less. The door knocked. Elle opened it, to see her mother, crying.

"What's wrong?" Elle asked, inviting her to sit on her bed.

"She told me. She told me the truth," Claire said, sitting down. "After seventeen years, finally she tells me the truth."

"I'm sorry," Elle said, putting her hand on her mother's shoulder.

"No, you shouldn't be," Claire said. "I finally know it now. That Peter and I were meant to be together. I just know it."

Elle could see her mother smile at the mere thought. "Of course you were. I wouldn't be here if you weren't," Elle smiled.

Claire, even though only seventeen, was having a motherly moment with her now-24-year-old daughter. She just barely brushed Elle's cheek, a comforting gesture and soon pulled her into a loving embrace.

"I love you, Mom," Elle said. Claire placed her hands on her daughter's head, and brushed it. "I love you, too," she said. And even though they'd only known each other for one day, Claire really meant it.

* * *

Peter followed Elle's advice, and quickly teleported to his mother's house. If he tried the traditional way of getting out, he'd probably get shot once the guards saw him. "Peter's loose, grab him!" he imagined the guards saying. And guns would come out, and it probably would not be pretty.

No, he was sticking to the easy way to get to the truth. His Company cell disappeared, and soon found himself in the living room. Something told him that he came here before to find the truth. He shrugged it off. He saw his mother sit there, currently unaware of Peter's presence.

"Ma?" he asked. He saw his mother turn, and smile.

"Peter? You're alive!" she said. She hugged him, wrapped her arms around him.

"I didn't come here for a celebration, Ma," Peter said, pulling him away from his mother's arms.

But the world did not seem too keen on paying Peter any attention today because he heard his name being called again. this time, it was said by a man. Peter turned around, and saw Nathan the happiest he's ever seen him.

Nathan and Peter hugged, and Peter pulled away. As much as he loved his brother, he needed to know the truth.

"Look, Ma, someone told me I needed to know the truth from you," Peter said, turning back to his mother.

"About what?" Nathan asked.

"About," Peter began, "well, about Claire."

"What does Claire have to do with anything?" Nathan asked.

"Look, I don't know, okay? It's just, my future daughter said there was something Ma's been lying to me about," Peter said.

"Your future daughter?" Nathan asked, incredulous.

"It was Elle, wasn't it?" his mother asked.

"How do you know about her?" Peter asked.

Angela calmly sat down, crossed her legs and said, "It's about time you knew anyway."

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Year 2008

Atmosphere was tainted around the Petrellis. Intrigue, mystery, and curiosity plagued Peter's senses, but he knew his brother felt nothing more than confusion. He sat down on the couch, facing his mother. She sat there calmly, as if the world was for her.

Nathan sat down beside him, and asked, "Knew about what, ma?"

Angela merely wore her faceless expression and said, "Claire's not your daughter, Nathan."

Just like that, with no remorse, no empathy. What was wrong with her?

"Of course, she's my daughter. I slept with Meredith, she's my daughter, of course she is," Nathan said.

Peter, on the other hand, was mysteriously silent. The younger Petrelli just sat there, seemingly emotionless at the revelation.

"Maury Parkman," Angela stood up. "He mind warped you to only thinking you slept with Meredith, Nathan…"

The rest of their conversation became blurred to Peter, like everything was in slow motion. Peter still saw everything happen, even Nathan's departure.

But it was like he couldn't stop it, it was like he wasn't in himself. The scene disappeared; flashes came through him, like he was going through the archives of his mind. But everything was about Claire. Quick flashes of her smile, tidbits of her.

These little moments played like a broken video, only focusing for about five seconds, then disappeared. The next set of flashes stayed longer. Claire was seen hugging Peter, thanking him. Claire was seen kissing him, and holding his hand on the couch he recognized as his own. Then came the quick tidbits again, and finally the last scene. Peter was yelling at a crying Claire.

"Claire," Peter muttered, more like a sigh of desperation for the woman, he now remembered, he loved.

"Why?" he asked, facing reality again, facing his mother.

"I'm sorry, Peter?" she asked calmly. As if she didn't know. Peter was boiling inside, at his mother's ignorance, at her selfishness.

"Why, Ma? Why did you do it?" Peter asked again.

"What do you mean, why, Peter? I did this to save you, Pet-"

Peter cut her off, "How is this saving me, Ma?!" he was standing up, enraged, pointing his finger at the mother that lied to him.

"Peter, calm down," his mother said, a plead for her son.

"If saving me means hurting me more than anything ever could, then yea, Ma! I'm saved!" Peter yelled.

"Peter, I didn't know…" she said, her voice died out.

"Yeah, you don't, because you never gave shit about how I felt!" Peter yelled. With that, he teleported to Claire's California home.

* * *

Adam Monroe had never been a man who liked someone getting in his way. If anyone ever did, it ended in death. Elle Petrelli was not going to be the first to survive.

As soon as he found out from Angela that she'd told Peter the truth, he knew that Elle had something to do with it. Plus, who else was Peter and Claire's daughter from the future?

He followed his instincts and called Meredith, because knowing the person Claire was, her birth mother would probably the first person she would call.

"Meredith," he said to the woman he hadn't spoken to for years.

"Adam," she said, a simple greeting. "I knew you'd call."

"Why?" Adam asked, a pointless question but he knew he had to ask.

"You never call for anything else," Meredith said. "And yes, Claire came here."

There was a silence for the used-to-be lovers. Adam remembered the moments when he called purely just to check up on the two, because then, he still cared.

Did he still care? Sure, he did. She was Meredith, and he would always care, no matter the circumstances. Did she still care for him? That was a question only she could answer, but it was also a question Adam never dared to ask.

"Do you know where she is?" Adam asked her.

For a moment, Meredith didn't want to answer: who knew what could happen once he arrived at the door? Bullets would run wild, probably. But she knew the kind of man Adam was: he pretended to not care, but he still did. And, no matter, what, he always did love Claire.

"She's at the Ericson motel, here at Kermit," Meredith said. "She's with Elle."

* * *

Ericson Motel had always been a makeshift refuge for mother and daughter; they checked out in the afternoon to go back to Costa Verde.

Elle's rented Nissan was parked in the lot, where abandoned cars laid. Elle gripped on her mother's arm and said, "I think it's time I go." Claire was faceless at what her daughter said.

"What? Why?" she asked.

"My job's done. I mean, I told both of you about what happened. I think it's safe to go home again," Elle smiled, as the two talked in front of her car. "And don't worry. You'll have me in 24 years, Mom," she said. Claire smiled.

"I'd rather she didn't," a man's voice said, interrupting their mother/future daughter moment. Claire turned around, and saw a strapping man dressed in a black trench coat and form-fitting pants. She immediately thought he was a dangerous man. for one thing, he had a gun in his hand aiming at her daughter.

"Adam," Elle said.

"I'm surprised you caught up with me, Elle," he said, smirking.

"Like you'd be going with shooting my parents that easy," Elle said, covering her mother like a protective shield. "Hold on to me," she muttered to her mother.

Claire did so, and gripped on Elle's shirt-covered arm and found herself in the parking lot where her father died.

"Why are we here?" Claire asked.

"It's the only place I could think of," Elle said. she turned to look at her mother, giving her a big hug.

"Look, I've got to go now, okay? It's time to-" Elle never got a chance to finish her sentence.

A trigger got pulled, a gun got shot through the head, and a woman got killed. Claire looked from her daughter's dead body to the man holding the gun.

Adam Monroe was standing there, one hand on the instrument of Elle's death, the other tucked comfortably in his pocket. Claire dropped to the floor, facing Elle.

She covered her mouth with her hand, and soon felt tears streaming down her face. She put her hand on Elle's hair, and motherly brushed it.

"Claire," she heard someone say. She turned around to see Adam, the gun still in his hand.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That I haven't been the greatest father."

He was playing the father card? Now? Just after he shot her daughter? He really was a lunatic.

"I'll forgive you for that if you just drop dead right now," Claire said, emotionless, still holding her daughter.

"Can't do that, Claire," Adam said.

He took out his gun and pointed it at Claire. Claire took back her lunatic comment about her father, he was a raging schizo, for God's sake. She looked at her daughter, then to her father holding the gun and closed her eyes.

Claire had never been the praying sort of girl, but she chose that moment to ask for a Gabriel from God. A gun was shot, and everything went silent. She opened her eyes, expecting to be in heaven, or some sort of judging place. but she found herself in the same place.

She didn't die, Adam did. She saw Peter from a distance and smiled.

Everything was over, the villain taken care of, and the only thing Peter cared about now was taking Claire in his arms, kissing her with all his might and telling her, finally telling her, that she was the love of his life, and she always would be.

He never thought Claire would beat him to it. Peter felt Claire around, their bodies pressing together, and soon felt the loving kiss she placed on him.

"I love you, Claire," Peter said.

"Tell me something I don't know," Claire smiled.

"Let's go," Peter said, putting his hands on her waist.

"What about her?" Claire turned around to see Elle.

"I called your mom and Lyle. They'll be here in five minutes. I asked them to clean any dead bodies around here," Peter said.

"You know everything, don't you?" Claire asked.

"Now that Lyle and your mom aren't at the house, it just leaves us there alone," Peter said, coyly.

"Peter Petrelli!" she smacked his arm.

"What? Does that mean you don't want to do it?" Peter smiled.

Claire turned to look at him, really look at him, at those beautiful pair of brown eyes, that raven hair, the playful expression on his face, wrapped her arms around him and said, "No, I very much want to."

They kissed and Peter teleported them to Claire's bedroom. Peter kissed her on the forehead, then to the nose and soon they were locked in most passionate kiss they'd ever had. First of many, Peter thought.

"Are you sure?" he asked Claire, a moment of doubt.

Claire looked at him, and straightened up in his arms and smiled playfully. "Hell yeah."

* * *

A/N: Ok, second last chapter. My writing was a little off this chap, but I think it's good. And don't worry, the last chapter will be filled with Paire happiness

-Aly


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I'm so sorry it took me so long to update, guys! But this chapter is filled with Paire happiness, so enjoy. I kind of went overboard with this chap, but I'm real proud of it.

I'd like to start with my awkward author speech, which most of you might skip. I'd like to thank my friends, Ira, who co-wrote this chapter, Jim and Seri, who read this story faithfully even though they were ant-paires, and of course to caligurl777 n youtube. If it wasn't for your genius of a plot, this story would not be what it is. I'd also like to thank my family, who coped with my writing outbursts, and my computer who, Thank God, did not break down at needed times.

And of course, to the people who read and reviewed, especially Cesia Illuser, who gave me my first review, and RLD Flame-point Callie-co who reviewed an amazing 3 times!! You guys really kept me going. So here it is: the last words of Our Last Breath.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

"Amazing, Mr. Petrelli," Claire breathed as she positioned her head on Peter's chest. She could get used to this. Waking up to the man she loved, and hearing those three words from him when she did.

Two weeks they'd been together, and the Petrellis still didn't know. The only people that knew they were together were her mother, Lyle, and a few innocent on-lookers on the street. Peter kissed her hair, taking in her strawberry scent.

"If it was up to me, I'd stay here forever. In bed, with you doing numerous…things to me," Peter said, and was answered by Claire's giggle. "But my family's gotta find out one way or another."

Claire looked up to face Peter, and said, "Fine."

Peter got up, naked except for a pair of boxers and kissed her hair one more time. Claire got up, taking the blanket with her, covering her chest. She soon dropped the blanket and tied her robe from the floor to cover her up.

"Good," Peter said, facing her. He was dressed now, in last night's T-shirt, and was smiling. "'Cause I got a question for you. And you'd probably want to sit down for this," he said, indicating to the foot of the bed.

The blonde girl did so, and faced her hero, hands on her lap. "What?" she asked.

"Six months ago, at high school Homecoming, I met this amazing girl. I saved her life, and she did the same for me. And then, I fell in love with her. When I found out that we were related, I think it broke everything for me. When I found out otherwise, it was like everything was turned right again," Peter brushed Claire's cheek. "Now I know that I can't live without her. So, I'm asking, Claire, to save me just one more time. Save me from a life without you. I love you," Peter kneeled down, and Claire gasped. "Marry me?"

Claire embraced Peter, pouring out every love she had, and said, "Yes."

* * *

Nathan Petrelli was not the kind of man who liked surprises, the freshly-shaven and sober man thought. In fact, he grew a hating for them. He tried to avoid surprises at all costs, but that was a little difficult when he was born into a supernatural family.

So Peter's surprise visit was less than ideal. Sure, he was happy his younger brother was alive, but that still didn't change the fact that he was supposed to be dead.

"Nathan, I need to talk to you," Peter said, facing his brother.

"Sure, Pete," Nathan said, "Why not start with why you're alive?"

Peter chuckled but said, "I'll get to that later. Now, there's something you really need to know."

"Fine, Pete," his brother said. "There's no easier way to say this, so I'm just going to say it," Peter said, "I'm in love with Claire and we're getting married." Swear to God, Nathan Petrelli fainted.

* * *

"It doesn't have to be a big wedding, Peter," Claire had assured him in bed two months prior.

"I know it doesn't, because, if it was up to me, I'd just dress in jeans and run to Vegas with you right now," Peter had said, kissing her gently.

"But I'm sure my mother's right. A big wedding's always full of memories, and we need much of that for little Elle here." He patted her six-weeks-along stomach.

Now, here she was, standing in her A-line empire waist white ball gown which made her long blonde hair have a golden glow, three months pregnant and showing, at the most beautiful lake house she'd ever seen. The eighteen-year-old had not been expecting this: in fact, she never expected any of this. To have the most amazing man to love her, and have a baby on the way. Claire kept thinking of what Elle could be short for. Isabelle, maybe? Or Danielle.

Claire thought the day was perfect, the blue skies overlapping with soft, fluffy clouds. At first, she had a problem with her side of the guest list for the only names present were her mother and Lyle. But Nathan introduced her to Mohinder, who, in turn, introduced her to Matt and Molly. Soon, she was friends with the single mother Niki and her son Micah. Niki even helped the young bride to pick out her wedding lingerie, though Claire thought it was unnecessary.

"I'm pregnant, Niki," Claire had said.

"When you look like that, doll, nothing's unnecessary. Especially when it comes to Peter," Niki had smiled.

So she finally had her something old (her childhood bracelet she insisted on wearing), something new (her wedding lingerie), something borrowed (Heidi, Nathan's now reconciled wife, had lent Claire her veil) and something blue (her bridesmaid's dresses).

"You ready, kid?" Nathan asked Claire.

True, he hadn't been accepting at first, but he soon became more supportive than anyone expected of him. In fact, it was this very fact that made Heidi forgive him and see the better man in him. Nathan would be the one to give her away, little Molly was playing flower girl while her bridesmaids were Niki and Heidi. Claire smiled at Nathan. She saw Niki give her a little smile before disappearing into the hall and that gave her a little assurance. She nodded at Nathan, who smiled broadly.

She gripped on his arm, and breathed out, "I can't believe this is happening."

"You should. Peter loves you more than anything. You've the only one that's made him happy," Nathan brushed her cheek, a sign of adoration.

"You would've made a great father to me, Nathan," Claire said, straightening up.

"Then I'll make a better job at being the overprotective brother-in-law," Nathan chuckled.

He opened the doors to reveal the aisle which were already decorated with white and red rose petals, with Claire holding onto his arm. The scenery of the lake which was lit with the sun setting behind was breathtaking. More so with the love of her life standing in front of the beautiful view. The orchestra started playing with a familiar melody and everyone turned.

She felt like a princess on that aisle, gripping Nathan's arm even harder. She could see the adoring faces of her friends, of her family. But the happiest face of them all stood at the end of the aisle, hands together, looking handsome in a tux. The wind blew softly, carrying few pink flowers and brown leaves along with it as though it was celebrating.

There was a pair of swans, embracing each other, forming a shape of a heart with their heads. The bride's smile grew wider at the sight of those birds.

Everything just seemed so perfect.

Claire felt that the walk down the aisle could not be slower, because all she wanted to do was say those two words to the man waiting for her. Claire finally arrived, and was kissed on the cheek by Nathan.

"Dearly beloved," the priest began. "We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony."

Claire and Peter agreed that only this part of the speech would be said, for their rush to get married, and their reassurance that no one would object. The priest's brow had knitted together but understood.

"Do you, Peter Michael Petrelli, take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife? To love and cherish? For better or for worse, through sickness and in health, as long you both may live?" he asked.

Peter locked eyes with Claire, his brown eyes melting in her green ones.

"I do," he said.

"And do you, Claire Juliet Bennet, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband? To love and to cherish? For better or for worse, through sickness and in health as long you both may live?" the priest asked.

"I do," she said.

They exchanged their rings; hers was gold and topped with a five karat diamond, graciously given by Angela while his was also gold but encrusted with the words 'We Belong Always' given to her by the late Noah Bennet when she was a young girl.

"You may now kiss the bride," he finished.

Claire felt the soft brush of Peter's hand on her skin as he removed her veil, and shivered. She smiled at him, and felt his hands move to her cheeks, and kiss her. Soft, at first, but she soon felt every love he felt for her, and every love she for him.

* * *

Peter woke up by the sounds of her wife screaming from the kitchen which had a slight shriek to it. It sounded like a fire alarm. His eyes were immediately wide open.

"Claire? What's wrong?" Peter asked his wife who was already on the floor, clutching her dress.

"Can't you freaking see what's wrong?!" she yelled at him with an enraged face.

Claire screamed again, filled with agony but Peter was too dumbstruck he couldn't figure out what to do. All those baby classes were a waste right now. Just the thought of her daughter about to be born was just mind-blowing. He couldn't believe this was happening. Everything was happening too fast, even for him. What was he supposed to do while his wife was in labor? He knew he had to do something, anything, but it was at the back of his mind and all he had to do was reach for it.

"Peter! Get the car keys, for God's sake!" she ordered.

He jumped in shock and quickly obeyed what she said. He got back into the room and searched for the car keys.  
It was lost.

"Damn," he cursed to himself.

He tried to recall where he left them the night before but nothing came to his head. It was blank. Where were his damn keys? He could hear Claire shouting his name asking him to hurry up. He was trying his best but all this panic just made it so much harder.

"Can you be any slower? Haven't you picked up the super speed or something yet?!"

The drawer, he suddenly remembered.

He checked it and thank God it was there. He took them and rushed to his wife who was yelling for him on the kitchen floor.

"Coming!"

And off they rushed to the hospital with their baby on the way.

The nurses quickly put Claire into a wheelchair and wheeled her to the emergency room. Peter ran side by her while holding her hand. It was a must to keep up with her since she was gripping on her hand too hard for him to escape. Apparently, according to Mohinder, since she has abilities regenerate, Elle could come out earlier than normal pregnancies.  
"Did you call my Mom?" she asked painfully.

"I called her already," he said, panting.

"Nathan and Heidi? And what about Niki?"

"Claire, don't worry. I'll take care of it," Peter assured coolly.

They were rushed into the emergency room where Claire was carefully lifted up by her husband onto the bed. Sweat was dripping from her face like ice melting on a hot day. She didn't scream anymore but her hand was tight grip lock around his.

Peter's breathing was obviously not steady but kept asking his wife to do her breathings and his heart was pumping out of his chest with all the adrenaline rush. For some reason, he felt he would rather face trying to blow up than trying to go through Claire's labor.

Dr. Alison came into the room, all suited up. She was one of the few super human doctors they met which suited them. The others were all too interested in experimenting with Elle and how her powers will develop.

They already had Mohinder to do that.

The doctor washed her hands and pulled on her latex gloves then covered her eyes with a pair of medical goggles.

"Are you ready, Claire?" she waited for her approval.

Claire took a deep breath and nodded.

"Okay, Claire. I need you to push as hard as you can in the count of three. Peter, hold her hand."

He instantly did as he was told.

"One, two, three…"

Claire pushed herself forward and screamed through the pain. Dr. Alison was telling her how good she was doing. Finally, she fell back against the bed again, out of breath.

"Deep breaths, Claire. Now, one more try. She's nearly out," she announced.

"One, two, three…"

Peter watched the woman she loved scream in the bad pain and cruel agony, trying to give birth to their daughter. They hadn't decided what to name their daughter yet. It was still between Isabelle and Danielle. His hand felt numb with the titanium lock around his left hand while his right hand was holding her leg.

"Just a little more."  
And then he heard it; the most beautiful sound he ever heard in his entire life. The cry of his newborn daughter. The cry just made him dropped his arms to his side and Claire relaxed her body. He walked to the doctor who was holding the baby in her arms.

"Would you like to cut the cord, Mr. Petrelli?" she handed him a pair of scissors.

Peter dumbly took it and cut the long rope that connected the baby with Claire from her belly button. One snip was all it took. The nurse took away the baby to be clean and he couldn't help feeling jealous that the woman was actually able to touch his daughter.

Peter Petrelli had never had something so holy, so innocent, handed to him. He looked sideways to his young bride, blonde hair drenched with sweat and exhaustion. Then he looked at the woman holding his newborn. Alison held Elle with her life, and cleaned her up with her own two hands.

The redheaded doctor with super speed wrapped the little Petrelli in a pink blanket and handed her to the new parents. "Any names, Mom and Dad?" she asked. Dad, the name rang in Peter's mind.

He finally realized: he was now officially responsible for a human being. An incapable little girl he instantly knew he loved. "Isabelle Marie," Claire breathed out. Isabelle, Peter thought. Yes, Isabelle suited the newborn, what a beautiful name.

"You have no idea how much I love you right now," Peter said to Claire, kissing her blonde hair. Claire looked up from Elle to face her beloved husband.

"Why don't you show me?" she smiled. Peter did so with kissing her lips and placing one, gentle, swift kiss on their baby daughter.

"She's our miracle, Peter. Just look at her," Claire said, looking down at her daughter. "Claire, you, and Elle," Peter said, "You are my miracles."

* * *

Nearly everyone of the Justice League was asleep. Molly had fallen asleep in Micah's arms; Niki had her head on Matt's shoulder while Peter's older brother was sleep on Heidi's lap.

The only ones awake were Hiro, Ando, Mohinder and Heidi. "Petrelli-san!" Hiro said, waking up Nathan instantly. The Japanese man was chipper, his sidekick by his side. Nathan woke Matt up with a few shakes, and the chubby man instantly blushed at the blonde woman by his side.

"How is she?" Heidi asked. Peter didn't know which she Heidi was referring to.

"Claire's fine, and Elle is too," Peter smiled.

"What's her full name?" Niki asked, waking up.

"Isabelle Marie," Peter said.

Heidi and Niki put their hands to their chests and gently 'aww'ed at the name.

"Can we see her?" Molly asked, already up. Peter smiled at the little girl, that reminded him so much of the Claire he saved at Homecoming, and said, "Sure. Why not?"

* * *

"Ellie! It's lunchtime, come in!" Claire said to her daughter outside. She was spending, said 'quality time' with her father.

"Wait, Mommy!" Elle said. "Daddy's gonna show me something!" Peter smiled at his five-year-old, her blonde hair in pigtails.

"And what's that?" Claire said, leaning herself to see her husband and daughter. Peter smiled at his wife, and wrapped his arms around his daughter. Within moments, both were in the air, Elle laughing with glee.

* * *

Peter and Claire were in bed, lights turned down. Both were naked, covered with blankets.

"Do I have any other word for it?" Claire said, "Amazing, Mr. Petrelli. Amazing."

"Good to know having a kid didn't ruin my moves," Peter said. Claire laughed.

"No matter how many kids we have, this," Claire put her hand on his shirtless chest. "This will always be amazing."

"So we're having more?" Peter asked, smiling.

"Let's just say we're trying," Claire said. "Yeah, well, I like the trying part," Peter kissed his wife.

* * *

"Who ever knew this day would come?" Molly asked. She was beautiful, eighteen and perfectly gorgeous. Claire and Niki laughed and said, "Everyone."

Molly Walker just married the 20-year-old Micah Sanders, and they were currently at the reception, Molly had given the 'one minute finger' to Micah to talk to her friends. The eighteen-year-old laughed.

"I forgot to tell you, hon, welcome to the family," Niki put her hand on her shoulder. Molly looked up at the blonde man and immediately embraced the blonde woman.

"Niki, you've been part of the family ever since you married Matt," Molly looked sideways to her foster father talking to Nathan while holding a glass of champagne, "You're practically my mother."

It was purely logical for Niki and Matt to get married. They were both just out of marriages that ended badly, they were both just looking for answers, and it was just destiny, as Peter put it, that they found answers in each other.

"Mommy, where's Danny?" Elle asked her mother.

Daniel was Elle's younger brother, a son Claire and Peter welcomed into the world two years prior. Elle was dawning on the eight, making her full of laughter and joy, especially when it came to Daniel. She would play games with him the backyard; have Peter fly him around so that he would feel the same joy she felt.

Claire knew that Elle from the future didn't have a brother, and it made Claire's heart beat faster, knowing that they changed the future and gave their daughter the best present they ever could: a kin.

"Danny's with Uncle Nathan, Ellie," Claire said, seeing Nathan holding little Danny in his arms. Claire watched her daughter trot away in her pink flower girl dress and go to her uncle and brother.

"She's beautiful, Claire," Molly said to her, smiling.

"Don't worry, Mol. I'm sure you and Micah will have one of your own soon," Claire said, sipping her champagne.

"Actually," Molly said, "That's sooner than you think. I'm pregnant."

This revelation was greeted with shrieks from Niki and Claire, and embraces from the women. As soon as Molly pulled away she asked,

"Is it wrong for me to hope the kid doesn't get powers?" Claire smiled, "No, not really."

"What's all the shrieking about?" Matt asked.

He appeared out of nowhere by his wife's side. "Well, Dad," Molly said, "I'm pregnant." Matt's face spoke the word shock and said, "You just got married!" Molly laughed and gave Matt a big hug.

"Now, it's time for the bride and groom's first dance," Nathan spoke into the mic.

Micah stepped on the dance floor, and extended his right hand to welcome his bride. The orchestra started playing, a melody that didn't seem so familiar but sounded beautiful. Molly bid her father and friends goodbye and smiled at her husband. Immediately, Molly's head was on Micah's shoulder as their bodies pressed together.

"They look so happy," Claire said.

"Just like us," a voice said into her ear.

She turned around to see Peter's smiling face. She kissed him. "Eww," Elle said, watching her parents kiss. Peter picked up his daughter with a big grunt and said, "Wow, Ellie. You're getting heavy."

"I thought you had super strength, Daddy," Elle looked at her father.

"True," Peter laughed.

Claire looked at him. He was in his late thirties, but didn't even look older than 28. Claire, on the other hand, stopped her aging at age 20, making her look more mature, though, in Peter's eyes, she would always be his cheerleader.

"I can't believe that 8 years ago, I was just a spirit following you around," Peter said to Claire.

"I'm sure no one even saw it coming," Claire smiled. "I used to be your niece, for God's sake!"

"I'm glad you aren't," Peter said.

"You know what? So am I. But you've got to know, Peter. Niece or not, I'll always love you," Claire kissed her husband.

"The kid's getting restless," Nathan said, handing Claire her baby boy.

"Aww," Claire said.

She wrapped her arms around Daniel, and Peter put his free hand around Claire, the other holding Elle as they watched Molly and Micah dance. There they were, Claire, Peter, Daniel and Elle, standing together. A perfect trinity of family.

* * *

A/N: Thanks all for reading! Virtually applaud if you like it!

-Aly


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